I wish I could claim that this was planned, but an unfortunate trimming accident (pro tip: always check if the #3 distance comb is on the trimmer) leaves me beardless.
Now, lots has been said about my beard, a feature I require because not only does it give me Samson-like powers, it also makes me look less like a douche. Or, to quote one of the residents at work: “You think this leg rotting off a patient is ugly? You haven’t seen Mikka without a beard, yet.”
The good news is: it’ll grow back. And it’s 2020, so we’re all wearing masks in public, anyway. Yay for a potentially lethal viral disease!
Bad news: I indeed am only marginally less shit looking than a rotting leg.
So now my beard has his own category on this blog, reporting frequently on his growth and the return of my powers. And, no, there’s no pointe to this story, just me whining about being too dumb to check the distance setting on my trimmer and having to suffer through the indignities of a shaven cheek once more. I am too old for this bullshit.